


Ticket to Ride

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuffed to the gills, Napoleon and Illya try to figure out a way to work off a few calories.  Hmm, I wonder what they could do?</p><p>Written for the 2014 Valentine's Day Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticket to Ride

 

The sun was just starting to play peek-a-boo behind the tree-lined road as they entered into the last and best part of their journey.   Four days of downtime, their thanks for another timely tromping of THRUSH.

Behind the wheel of the car, Illya tried to concentrate.   Napoleon’s fingers stroked the nape of Illya’s neck, playing with his hair and, in turn, his libido.  Between that and the day they’d just finished, Illya looked forward to crawling into bed with his partner.

To thank them for saving her winery, vineyard and, oh, yes, her very attractive granddaughter, _Signora_ Giabaldi had laid out a _festa_ _nel frutteto_ for them.  When Napoleon heard about the feast in the orchard, he’d grumbled and said that they could always get something when they got back to their hotel room.  Illya had merely smiled and agreed.

He’d heard about these things and their multicourse delights, but he kept the information to himself.

“You should have warned me,” Napoleon grumbled from the passenger’s seat.  

“What would have been the fun in that?”  Illya smirked, but kept his eyes on the road.  This part was straight, but Italian roads have a mind of their own and he’d had more than his share of _vino fatto in casa._

First they had started with an _aperativo_.  In this case, it had been champange and olives and cheese.  The olives, large, green and juicy, were local and perfectly brined and the cheese, hard and tasty.  An _antipasto_ course of meats, more cheese, and slightly pickled vegetables followed.   

They ate at a long table, the entire Giabadl family, all together to celebrate the men who had saved them.  There was laughter and speeches and music.  And wine... lots and lots of wine.

The _primo_ or the first real course, according to the Italians, was a tasty risotto, thick with mushroom and rich chicken stock.

Napoleon patted his stomach and declared that he was stuffed.  “Oh, no, _signor, La Secondo e contorno_ ,” pretty Bettina had murmured and gestured as her _nonna_ brought a lovely poached salmon to the table along with a bowl of steaming vegetables.  “We are just starting.”

“Illya, what do I do?”  Napoleon whispered as a lovely portion of salmon was carefully placed before him.

“Un-do your pants button and dig in.” It had almost been the end for him and Illya wasn’t broken hearted that they skipped the _Insalata_  course.  Then Emesto  suggested a game of bocce – something that took five minutes to learn and a liftetime to perfect.  He and Napoleon had a slight hand up due to their training, but they were still thoroughly trounced in the end.

By the time the _formaggi e fruta_ made it to the table, Illya hadd caught his second wind.  Napoleon, on the other hand, was looking a little glassy eyed, although Illya wasn’t sure if it was from the food, the wine, or the copious amounts of congratulatory or consoluatory hugging they’d done during the game.

“More?”  Napoleon’s tone was so forlorn, Illya almost took pity on him and relieved him of his _dolce_ , but it was an air-light _panna cotta_.  Illya left Napoleonto his own devices and dove in.  Combined with coffee and grappa, Illya was sure he was waddling by the time the got back to the car.

 

“That was an experience.”  Those were the first words Napoleon had spoken in nearly a half hour.

“I will concede that it was nearly too much for me.  I’m just lucky these roads are fairly straight.”

“I noticed you were going slowly.  Well, slowly for you.”

“Better that than wrapping us around a tree.”  Illya began to apply the brakes and Napoleon sat up from his slump.  

“Trouble?”

“Nature calls.  If I don’t stop, it will be a very wet ride home.”

He pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and parked the car carefully to keep it from obstructing traffic.  He moved to some boulders and took care of business.  Tucking himself away, he turned and gasped.

The setting sun was painting the sky a masterpiece of pinks, golds and purples.  Below trees were being clothed in a black velvet of shadows.  Rarely did he stop to look at a sunset.  He was usually too busy trying to ensure one for everyone else.

“Everything okay?”

Illya turned at Napoleon’s voice and then back to the deepening colors of the sky.  Arms slid around his waist and Illya leaned back into Napoleon’s comfortable embrace.  Napoleon’s breath tickled his ear and for the moment, Illya wished it would all just stop and stay like this forever.

“What’s wrong?”  Napoleon tried a second time.

“It’s just so beautiful.  It reminds me of why we do what we do.  I’m just, I don’t know, tired.”

“Hold on for a moment.”

Napoleon was gone and Illya immediately missed the closeness.  They had so little of it.  Well, that wasn’t exactly true.  He just never seemed to have enough.

Napoleon appeared with an armful of stuff and, curious, Illya moved to help him.  Napoleon handled him a blanket and indicated a spot with his head. “Spread that out over there for me, will you?”

Illya did and turned back.  His mouth dropped out at the hamper that Napoleon was unloading.  “Where did that come from?”

“ _Signora_ Giabaldi didn’t think we’d had enough to eat, so she packed this for us.  You were busy getting _bocce_ tips at the time. ”

“Not enough… even I had enough to eat.”

Napoleon gestured to the horizon with his hand.  “A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou.”  At Illya hesitation, Napoleon asked, “Getting cold feet?”

“No, this is just a bit more public than I’m used to.”

“We haven’t passed anyone coming from to going to the vineyard.  I think we should take advantage of the lovely sunset and congratulate ourselves upon a successful mission.”

Illya dropped to the blanket and grinned.  “Well, since you put it that way.”

“And if we are visited, what are we doing that is so very wrong?”

“Nothing… yet.”

“Mmm, that sounds hopeful.”  Napoleon sat beside him.  “You were making me just a little insane this afternoon.”

Illya pour a glass of wine and handed it to Napoleon.  “During my athletic and graceful attempts with the bocce ball?”

“No, I was thinking more about when you started stroking my leg.”

“Not me.”  Illya tore off a chunk of bread and returned to the sinking sun, chewing the bread slowly.

“What?  Yes, it was.”  Napoleon carefully sliced off a piece of cheese and offered it to Illya

“I am innocent.”    He took a bite.  “This is good.  I love parmesan.”

“Not by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Perhaps an animal.  I hear that Italy has a great number of wild creatures.  Perhaps it was a wild boar.”

“Under the table?”

“Or a weasel… or a fox.”

“It was a fox all right.  A Russian Fox.”  Napoleon took a bite of cheese and then a swallow of wine.  “This is really good together.”

“I didn’t know they lived in this region.”  

“I’m looking at one right now.”  Napoleon dove in for a kiss and was met halfway.  There was nothing tender in the kiss and certainly nothing shy or reticent.  Instead, it was hard and purposeful, much like the men who embraced each other.

While the lips remained in an embrace of their own, hands began to roam and explore the bodies which had been off limits for so long.  They had made a pact to never engage each other like this during a mission, but the affair was over and they were free.

“I want you,” Napoleon murmured, even without releasing Illya’s lips.  “Completely and absolutely.”

“Unless you have some lube in your pocket, that will have to wait.  However…”  Illya pulled away and hastily undid Napoleon belt and fly.  His penis engorged and anxious sprang forward. “I have something that might make up for it.”  Illya took a mouthful of wine and then bent over to take Napoleon into his mouth.

The wine tingled and Napoleon’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the sensation.  Illya began to work in earnest.  Napoleon gave up his attempt to sit upright and sank back, his mouth working silently.

Illya had had the opportunity to perfect the art of fellatio while a student in Paris and he brought all of his skill to task now.  

Napoleon wound his fingers into Illya’s hair, squeezing and clutching, eventually dictating the rhythm.  Illya was content with that.  It permitted him to concentrate upon other aspects of his task.

He teased Napoleon for a bit, then, using the pitch and raggedness of Napoleon’s breathing, he brought Napoleon to the cliff, poised him there for a moment and then took him over the edge.

“That was… something else,” Napoleon admitted, once he’d gotten his breathing back to normal and his eyes had lost that glassy look.  “Where did you learn…?”

“The Sorbonne.  All those proper Catholic girls…”  Illya smiled at the memory and the smile morphed into something else as Napoleon’s fingers began to wander.

“And boys.”

“Oh, very much the boys.”  He held his breath as Napoleon undid Illya’s belt.  His penis strained against the fabric, but Napoleon wasn’t ready to give it its freedom quite yet.  

Instead he stroked it through the cloth, scraping a fingernail against it. “And you being of an obliging nature.”

“I’m always ready to… help.”  The last word took on a note of desperation.  “Please?”

Napoleon leaned close so that he caught the tip as the fly was released.  “No underwear?  That’s dangerous.”

“That was wishful thinking.”  Illya took a deep breath, trying to hold onto what little control he still held, but then it was too late and he was beyond control.  He gave it willingly and joyfully to Napoleon.

Napoleon teased him to the brink twice, knowing that was Illya’s preference, then he relented and brought Illya to a glorious climax.

It was only after the rushing in his ears subsided that Illya became aware of the sound of the crickets and realized that the day had slipped from dusk into evening.  There was just the briefest of pink tinging the tree line now.  The trees and surround hills were black against it and the stars shrugged off their blankets and began to come out,

“How was that?”  Napoleon offered him a refilled glass of wine.  “Enough?”

“Until we get back to the hotel,” Illya murmured.  “I can never get enough of you.”

There was the sound of a car slowing as it passed their car.  “Perhaps that’s our exit cue.”

“Or perhaps just a hint of what’s to come.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.”

Illya happened to glance at his watch then and smiled.  “By the way, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Napoleon looked at his watch, squinting to read the dial.  “I totally spaced the day.  Had I remembered, I would have given you something.”

Illya caught him and pulled him into a long kiss.  “You already have.  You have given me your heart and I can think of no greater gift.”

Napoleon brushed Illya’s hair back from his forehead and grinned.  “A perfect fit.”

“A perfect match.”

And the crickets sang, the stars twinkled and because of men like them, the world lived.

 

 


End file.
